In Front of Your Eyes
by capercailiechild
Summary: Allison looks for a missing lawyer while Joe ponders ballroom dance lessons, but the biggest surprises will come in the form of the lawyer's children, who may know more than they say.
1. You'll Never Find Him, Will You?

In Front of Your Eyes: Chapter One

Brakes screeching, Allison DuBois brought the car to a complete stop, inches away from a red-headed girl pushing a little girl in a wheelchair across the road. The girl shot Allison a dirty look, as though that could somehow make up for how instantly horrible Allison felt.

As the girl turned her head, Allison heard her say something, something low in the base of her skull.

"You'll never find him, will you, Mrs. DuBois?"

Allison came back to the real world, but the girl was gone.

She put it out of her mind and turned into the parking lot next to the DA's office. The elevator was empty and she went right into DA Devalos' office.

"What've you got?" she asked, noting that he was reading through a thin case file.

"The disappearance of one Daniel Rakowsky, age 45, father of four and, up until Labor Day, the chief researcher for the defense in the case of Alistair Morales versus the state of Arizona," Devalos said.

"He's been missing since Labor Day?" Allison asked. "Why wasn't I called in earlier?"

"The local PD's been working on the case," he replied. "They haven't needed help. But last week they hit a snag. The kidnapper sent a letter to the PD –…"

"Excuse me, District Attorney Devalos," his secretary interrupted, sticking her head into the office, "there's a young lady here to see you."

"Show her in," he said.

Allison turned around as the red-headed girl came through the door.

"Erika," Devalos said. "What can I do for you today?"

"Megan and I were just stopping by to see if there's anything new," the girl responded. "Who's this? A detective?"

"Erika, say hello to Allison DuBois," Devalos told her. "She's going to be helping us on the case."

"Let me guess… one of those psychics," Erika said.

"How did you know?" Allison asked, surprised.

She smiled. "You exude freakiness." She stuck out her hand. "Erika Rakowsky. Commonly known as Rikki."

"Allison. It's your father who's missing?"

"She's good."

"Listen to her, Erika. Go get some coffee or something," Devalos said. He stood and handed Allison the case file he'd been looking through. "I'm due in court. Allison, I'll call you tomorrow."

Once he had left, Allison stood as well. "Come on," she said to Erika. "I'll buy you some juice."

Outside Devalos' office, his secretary was showing a fluffy toy to a small girl in a wheelchair. Rikki stopped and knelt down next to the girl. "Megan," she said, "this is Mrs. DuBois."

"Hi, Megan," Allison said self-consciously.

"Let's go down to Beans-n-Brew," Rikki suggested. "It's the closest place I can think of that sells coffee. And no offense, Mrs. DuBois, you look like you could use some coffee."

Allison smiled. She had to admit, she liked Rikki. "Yes, I could use some coffee."

They went down in the elevator to the little coffee shop on the first floor. Allison ordered a large coffee and bought Rikki and Megan jugs of apple juice. They sat outside, enjoying the sunshine. "So you're going to look for my dad," Rikki said.

"I'm going to try," Allison agreed.

"Good. He deserves someone trying for him." Rikki took a swig of her juice, then peered deeply into Allison's eyes. "I can tell you really care about the people you look for."

"Is that any different from the police?"

"It's their job. Don't get me wrong or anything, I'm glad the police are looking for my father, but I assume with you it's different. More of a calling than something you're being paid for."

Allison smiled. The girl had hit it on the head. "Sure."

Rikki held the juice up to Megan's mouth and let the little girl drink for a moment. "He's been missing forever," Rikki said. "He's been missing since Easter. And it's just me and my brother Christopher."

"Where's your mother?" Allison asked.

"In Baltimore."

"What's she doing there?"

"Living, apparently, with her new husband and her perfect children who aren't me and Megan," Rikki said, with just a trace of bitterness in her voice. "She ran away one day when we were at school."

"Rikki, how old are you?"

"Fifteen."

Allison nodded.

"Mrs. DuBois, how does this… thing… work? Do you find clues about my dad in information about him? Like, if I showed you a map of where his car was found, would you be able to tell me how far away he is from it?"

"Probably not," Allison replied. "I mostly dream."

"Dreaming's cool," Rikki said. She was quiet for a moment. "Do you think dreams mean things?"

Allison nodded. "Of course I do. That's my job."

"Okay," Rikki said, but said nothing else.

When Allison had finished drinking her coffee, she said, "Do you need a ride home? I have to pick up my daughter at day care."

"We live over on Grey Street," Rikki said. "Is that too far out of your way? We usually just walk to see Mr. Devalos."

"Grey Street?" Allison asked in surprise. "That's pretty far away from here."

"It's about five miles each way," Rikki agreed, nodding. "The exercise is pretty good."

"How often do you come to see Mr. Devalos?" Allison wanted to know.

Rikki shrugged. "Once a week, sometimes less. He used to call when he had information, but he hasn't called in awhile. Usually I just stop in when I have to come downtown for something."

"Doesn't your brother have a car?"

"Yeah, he's got a minivan," Rikki replied, "but he works all day."

"Aren't you supposed to be in school?"

"No," Rikki said, grinning. "Aren't your girls out of school today? It's an in-service for the public schools."

Allison had forgotten. Then she repeated Rikki's sentence in her head. "My girls?" she asked. "How did you know there was more than one of them? I only mentioned my youngest daughter, who's in day care."

"Uh," Rikki said, at a loss to say anything else.

Allison looked at the girl. Then she said gently, "Rikki? Is there anything you want to tell me about your father's disappearance?"

Rikki grabbed the hem of her shirt and twisted it around her thumb, refusing to look at Allison. Then she said softly, "I told Christopher and he said I couldn't talk like that. He said I had to be strong, he said I couldn't tell anyone else about the dreams. He said that if I talked about it, it would be disrespectful to our father, whose entire life is based in science and fact, not all this New Age-y crap that doesn't make sense and can't be proven. And if he finds out I told you, he's going to be so mad."

"Why will he be mad?" Allison wanted to know.

A tear slid its way down Rikki's face. "He doesn't believe me."

"Tell _me_ about the dreams," Allison said. "I want to know."

Rikki placed her hands on the wrought-iron table, palms down. She began to speak softly. "In the first dream, I saw a map of the city. I saw his car. And then I saw a lantern light the map on fire. And I kept dreaming about it, I kept seeing the map. Every night for four or five nights. And then I didn't see the map anymore, I saw my father. He was in a boat."

"Did you tell anyone else besides Christopher about your dreams?"

"No." Rikki shook her head. "I told him and he said I had to be quiet about this or Social Services would take me and Megan away from him, and I couldn't do that to him, I just _couldn't_."

Allison thought about the girl's words. "I have a map of the city in my car," she said. "Would it help if I got it out?'

Rikki looked up at Allison. Her eyes were wide. "You're going to get a map?" she asked. "You think the dreams mean something?"

"I already told you that I think most dreams mean things," Allison said. "And I think that if we don't at least check out your dreams, we might miss something."

She stood. "Let's go get that map," she said. "I want to see where we should start."


	2. That Wasn't My First Choice

Chapter Two: That Wasn't My First Choice

With a map of Phoenix spread on the hood of her car, Allison traced two routes. With a red pen, she traced a path from the Rakowsky house on Grey Street to the law offices on Parker Boulevard where Daniel Rakowsky was a consultant. Calculating mileage in her head, she estimated that it would take a normal driver going at the posted speed limits about twenty minutes to cross the city and arrive at the office. With a blue pen, she traced a trail from the law offices to the Rutledge Docks, and from the house to the Rutledge Docks. And with a black pen, she scribbled in information about Daniel Rakowsky.

"Show me where you saw your father's car," Allison requested of Rikki, who stood beside the car, almost astonished that anyone was taking her seriously.

Rikki peered over the map, scanning for familiar lines of latitude and longitude. Finally she said, "There. That's where his car was."

Allison looked to where the girl's finger was. "That's all the way over in Briar Heights," she said. "Mr. Devalos told me that your father's car was found at the Rutledge Docks."

"There's a river than runs through Briar Heights, isn't there?" Rikki asked.

"Yes, the Troubadour River."

"Then it was there."

"Let's go," Allison said.

They picked up Marie at day care and strapped her into her car seat in the back seat. Megan sat next to Marie, and she seemed to enjoy Marie's babbling. Allison drove with Rikki in the passenger seat, crawling through the subdivision of Briar Heights. "Anything look familiar, Rikki?"

Rikki shook her head. "No." But then she sat forward and pointed to a house on the corner of Peachtree Lane. "That's the house," she said. "I saw that house in my dreams."

Allison checked the address; it was 510 Peachtree Lane. The address, as far as she knew, was not in any of the case files. Indeed, it was almost twenty miles from the Rakowsky house on Grey Street. "Are you sure?"

Rikki looked as though Allison had asked her to get out of the car and run beside it. "Yes, I'm sure."

"Okay." Allison pulled up to the curb and put the car into park.

"What are you doing?" Rikki asked, looking horrified.

"I'm going to find out who lives there," Allison explained.

"Why?"

"If this is the place, then we're going to know about it sooner or later. I'd just prefer that it be sooner."

"You're going to go to the door?"

"That wasn't my first choice," Allison said, and turned the car off.

The mailbox was a sturdy plastic one, obviously designed to reduce vandalism and attacks with baseball bats. Allison jimmied the door, which stuck, and removed a piece of mail. It was a Publishers' Clearinghouse ad, addressed simply to "Occupant." The next piece of mail was better; it was a letter addressed to "Jim and MaryAnn Billings, 510 Peachtree Lane."

Allison put the mail back into the mailbox and shut the door. She got back in the car.

"Well?" Rikki asked.

"Jim and MaryAnn Billings. Does that mean anything to you?"

Rikki thought. "No," she said at last. "Does it mean anything to you?

"No," Allison answered. "Let's go home."

"Home?"

"I've got dinner to fix," Allison said, "and I'd be honored if you'd eat with us. You said your brother works, anyway. You can keep the girls entertained… if you don't mind, that is."

Rikki smiled. "I would be honored."

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	3. Your Sister's Missing, Too?

Chapter Three: Your Sister is Missing Too?

"Mom!" Bridgette yelled as soon as Allison opened the door. The younger girl threw her arms around her mother as Allison set Marie on the floor. "Mom! Ariel stole my Danielle book!"

"Ariel," Allison said warningly.

"I did _not_, Bridge," Ariel scoffed. "It's on the couch where you left it."

"Girls," Allison said, "this is Erika Rakowsky and her sister Megan. They're going to have dinner with us."

"Are we having pizza?" Ariel wanted to know.

"Your father requested spaghetti," Allison said.

"And what a good man he is," Joe said, appearing from the bedroom, knotting a blue tie around his neck.

"Yes, so handsome, and smart," Allison agreed as Joe gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"That Joe DuBois, he's a Renaissance man." Joe looked over at Rikki and Megan. "Did you pick up some strays?"

Allison gave him a smile. "Joe, this is Erika Rakowsky and her sister Megan. I'm working on a case involving Erika's father."

"Pleased to meet you," Joe said, giving Erika his hand. She shook it. Joe turned to Allison. "Are we eating early tonight? Wilson just called, I guess I forgot the board meeting tonight."

"What time?"

"Seven. Can we eat by then?"

"Sounds fine. Ariel, put on a pan of water," Allison requested.

"Can I help, Mrs. DuBois?" Erika asked.

"Oh, no, we're fine. Bridgette, set the table, please."

"Are we having spinach?" Bridgette wanted to know. "Because I hate spinach."

"Mom, Melissa invited me over for Friday night, and she said I can spend the night and we can go to the movies," Ariel said. "Can I go?"

"Mom!" Bridgette was increasing the volume. "Are we having spinach?"

"No, Bridgette," Allison said as she found the spaghetti noodles in the cupboard. "Ariel, your father and I will have to talk it over. Bridge… Bridgette! One glass at a time, please!"

Two glasses crashed the floor, causing Marie to laugh and Ariel to groan. "You're so _stupid_, Bridge."

"It's only plastic," Bridgette said indignantly.

Allison laughed. "Don't call your sister stupid, Ariel '

"Don't laugh at her, Mom," Ariel said, aghast. "It only encourages her."

"Yeah! Don't laugh at me!" Bridgette chimed in.

"I'm just laughing because I love you," Allison said.

The table set, Bridgette went back into the living room, where Ariel had parked Megan's wheelchair, and picked up her Danielle book. "This is _Danielle in the Deep End_," Bridgette said to Megan. "It's my favorite book."

Megan rewarded Bridgette with a smile, and the younger girl opened the book and began to read. Rikki sat on the couch next to Bridgette and watched as the pages turned and Danielle had a fun, brightly-colored adventure.

Allison poured spaghetti noodles into the pan of boiling water. "Erika," she said, "there's one thing I'm still confused about."

Rikki looked up. "What is it, Mrs. DuBois?"

"Devalos said that your father was a father of _four_. You, Megan, and Christopher only make three."

Rikki gave Allison a gentle smile. "My sister is, presumably, with my father."

"Your sister is missing too?"

"They were in the car together, and neither of them has been heard from."

"Why didn't Devalos tell me about this?" Allison wondered aloud.

"I don't know," Rikki answered softly.

"Did you like _Danielle in the Deep End?"_ Bridgette asked Megan, who gave Bridgette another smile and tossed her stuffed lamb on the floor. "'Cause I have another book that I wrote, and it's called _Danielle and the Spelling Bee_. Mom, can I read her _Danielle and the Spelling Bee?"_

"Sure," Allison said. "We'll eat in fifteen minutes, if that's all right with everyone."

The phone shrilled. Joe, who had been ripping lettuce for a salad, dried his hands on a towel and reached over to answer it. "Hello? Yes, hang on a second." He handed the phone to Allison. "Scanlon."

"Hello?"

"Allison, it's Lee Scanlon. We've had a break in the case."

"What is it?"

"We've found Abigail Rakowsky."

"Where?"

"We're at the Kingfisher Apartments in Briar Heights. Can you get over here?"

"I'll be right there." Allison hung up the phone.

"Let me guess," Joe said. "We're not doing the family dinner thing."

"Sorry, my love," Allison said, giving him a kiss. "Scanlon needs me. Rikki, would you mind watching the girls?"

"That's fine, Mrs. DuBois."

"No, no," Joe said. "I can drop them off at Wilson's house, he's got…"

"… Five of his own," Allison finished the sentence for him. "I'll be back soon. Eat."

She got her purse from the table and was about to go out the door when Rikki said, "Mrs. DuBois?"

She turned around. "Yes?"

"Is it good news?"

"I'll let you know as soon as I do," Allison promised, giving Joe another kiss. "Girls, be good, please."


	4. You'd Better Come On In

Chapter Four: You'd Better Come On In

The complex of Kingfisher Apartments was relatively new. Four tall brick buildings were circled around a central courtyard, where there was a little garden, with bright flowers, iron benches, and a heavy stone fountain.

Allison saw Scanlon's unmarked police car outside the third building. There were two marked police cars there as well. Two officers stood at the door to the building. Allison took out her ID. "I'm Allison DuBois, with the district attorney's office. Detective Scanlon should be expecting me."

"Allison!" Scanlon said from the hallway. "Come on in."

The cops shifted slightly and Allison went into the hallway. Lee Scanlon was wearing neatly-pressed khaki pants and a navy polo shirt under a dark-colored sport coat; he looked as though someone had called him away from a dinner.

"What's going on?" Allison asked.

"We got an anonymous tip today at the station, right around lunch time," Scanlon replied. "Said if we came to the Kingfisher Apartments around six, we would find an important clue that would help us in the Rakowsky case. We got here by five-forty-five, set up surveillance. Nobody came in or out, so by six we were searching the building. It's been empty lately for painting and plumbing repairs."

"And?"

"We got to apartment 3A and we found Abigail Rakowsky in a closet."

"Does she know who put her there?"

Scanlon shook his head. "No. But you'd better come on in and talk to her."

He led her down a short flight of stairs to an apartment on the base floor. The hallway smelled like laundry detergent and wet earth. Two more cops were posted outside Apartment 3A, and as Scanlon and Allison entered, Allison could see crime scene techs working busily.

Abigail Rakowsky was standing with her back to Allison and Detective Scanlon as they approached her. She turned when Scanlon spoke her name, and Allison reflected on how varied the Rakowsky girls were; Megan was fair with blond curls, Rikki wore her red hair long, and Abigail's face was framed by dark ringlets.

"Abigail, this is Allison DuBois," Scanlon said.

"Pleased to meet you, Mrs. DuBois," Abigail said, and extended her hand. It went towards Scanlon, though, to whose left Allison was standing.

"Yes, pleased to meet you," Allison said, taking the girl's. Abigail turned to face her.

"She doesn't know who put her here," Scanlon said slowly, "because she can't see."


	5. You Wouldn't Pick Up and Leave

Chapter Five: You Wouldn't Pick Up and Leave

"Would you like to go back to your house?" Allison asked in the car ten minutes later as she pulled out into traffic.

"No thank you, Mrs. DuBois," Abigail said softly.

"Then I'll take you to my house. Rikki and Megan are there; you can spend the night."

"Is there any news on my father?"

"Not yet," Allison said.

"Have you called my brother?"

"I'm sure Detective Scanlon is trying to reach him." Allison took out her cell phone. "But Rikki asked me to call when I knew if it was good or bad news. Would you like to talk to her?"

She punched in the digits without waiting for an answer. Bridgette answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Bridge, it's Mommy. Can you put Rikki on the phone?"

"But we're reading _Danielle Goes to Tea_," Bridgette said in a voice that bordered on a whine.

"Bridge, I don't want to ask you again. Please put Rikki on the phone, and we'll read _Danielle Goes to Tea_ when I get home, okay?"

"Okay," Bridgette finally agreed, and Allison heard her call for Rikki.

"Hello?"

"Erika, it's Mrs. DuBois," Allison said.

"Is it good news?"

"It is," Allison said, and put the phone gently in Abigail's hand.

"Hello? Rikki? It's Abby."

The two sisters talked for a few minutes as Allison drove towards her house. The sun had set an hour ago, and now the sky was purple, marked with black tree hand-prints. When Abigail hung up, Allison asked, "There isn't anything you want from your house?"

"I can't go back there," the girl said vehemently. "_Never_."

"It's your home."

"Not anymore."

Allison pulled into the driveway and turned the car off. "Abigail," she said after a moment, "I want to let you know that we're going to find your father. He's alive."

"How do you know, Mrs. DuBois?" Abigail's voice was flat, emotionless.

"I know it the same way I know that the man who took you gave you chocolate," Allison said. The words were not prepared and she hadn't expected them.

Abigail's face changed. "Chocolate," she whispered.

"Is that right?" Allison asked, but she knew it was.

The front door opened and Rikki ran out. Someone – probably Ariel – had braided her long hair, and she had forgotten to put her shoes on. She pulled the car door open and threw her arms around Abigail. "Abby," Rikki said. "Abby, it is so good to see you."

Abigail said something low against Rikki's shoulder, then said it louder: "I don't have a cane."

"We'll get you one," Rikki said. "Mrs. DuBois probably has a broom."

"How's Megan?"

"Fine. We missed you. Come on in, get something to eat."

Abby stood up and took Rikki's elbow.

"Thank you for watching the girls," Allison said to Rikki. "I hope Bridgette didn't wear you out with her Danielle books."

"I was quite impressed by her writing skills," Rikki said, laughing. "I especially liked _Danielle and the Ocean_."

"Joe helped her with that one."

"That reminds me; he called and said he'd be home around ten."

"Thank you."

They went into the house. "Mommy!" Bridgette said. "We read _Danielle and the Ocean_, and _Danielle Goes to Tea_, and…"

"Bridgette, you and Ariel go put your pajamas on, please," Allison said. "I'd like to talk to Erika and Abigail."

The two DuBois girls left, leaving Allison with Erika and Abigail.

"Is there anything else I need to know about this case?" Allison asked, softly but firmly. "Anything else you need to tell me? Any other siblings missing?"

Erika shook her head. "No. I called Christopher, and he's stuck in Indiana."

"Why is he in Indiana?"

"He's a truck driver." Rikki could sense a question no one wanted the answer to. "Look, Mrs. DuBois, I know that if your father and your sister were missing, you wouldn't pick up and leave, but if Chris doesn't drive, we don't eat."

"I wasn't about to say that," Allison said. "I'm just thinking how frightening it must be to be alone."

"We're not alone," Rikki said softly. "We have each other."

Allison nodded. "Okay. Fine. You can stay here until we find your father, or until Christopher comes back from Indiana."

"Oh, Mrs. DuBois, you have your girls…" Rikki started to say.

"No," Allison said firmly. "You stay here. We'll feed you and take care of you, and that's more than you can do for yourselves at home."

Rikki looked at Abigail, then whispered in her sister's ear. Abigail nodded as Rikki spoke. Then Rikki turned back to Allison. "We'll stay here," she said. "And thank you for your hospitality."

"I'll go back to your house and get you whatever you need," Allison said. "You can make me a list, and I'll stop by in the morning."

"Thank you," Rikki said.

The door opened and Joe came in. "Hi, honey," he said, leaning over to give Allison a kiss. Then he realized that there was another girl in the room. "Who's this?"

"Abigail Rakowsky. Scanlon found her today. She and Erika are staying with us," Allison said in a voice that left no room for argument. "How was the board meeting?"

"Boring and predictable," Joe replied. "Are the girls in bed?"

"I told them to put their pajamas on," Allison said, "but you could check on them."

"I'll do that," Joe said, unknotting his tie as he went down the hall.

"I'll get you some blankets for the couch," Allison said. "The bed pulls out."

"We'll figure it out," Rikki said.

* * *

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	6. What's Real and What's Not

Chapter Six: What's Real and What's Not

Allison woke in the night, but not because of a dream. In fact, she had not dreamed at all, but somewhere in the house, she heard an odd noise.

Next to her, Joe slept peacefully. His face was serene, and she loved him more than words could explain in that moment.

She got out of bed and opened the bedroom door. Across the hall, the girls slept on. _Danielle Goes to the Zoo_ was open on Bridgette's bed; she closed the book and set it on the shelf. Marie's thumb was plugged deftly in her mouth. Allison stopped to swish the girl's light curls off her forehead.

Allison proceeded down the hallway towards the living room, where she was surprised to see the three Rakowsky sisters on the pulled-out couch, until she remembered that the three of them were basically homeless, and basically fatherless. Abigail slept on the right side of the bed, Rikki on the left, with Megan curled between them like a sentence between quotation marks.

She didn't remember moving into the front hall, towards the front door, or opening the door. Only when the cool air of the night hit her in the face did she realize that she was standing on the front porch in her pajamas, looking up at the stars. She could not remember now what had gotten her out of bed moments before, but now she understood.

Scanlon stood at the curb, leaning on his car. He was looking up at the sky, too, with a sucker in his mouth. When she looked over at him, he stood straight and came striding towards her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

Without waiting for an answer, he stepped in close to her body and kissed her full on the lips. She felt a rush of heat slide from her brain to her toes, and she regretted (and loved) every second of it. "… What?" she asked, her words lost against the smooth warmth of his lips. He leaned into the kiss and wrapped his arms around her. Their bodies melted together and she felt energy twine around them, searing the moment with passion.

"You smell like patchouli," Allison murmured.

And then her eyes opened in the dark, and the red numbers of the clock burned 2:22 into her retinas. Allison pushed back the covers and sat up. Next to her, Joe turned in his sleep and mumbled something incoherent. Then he rolled over to face her and said, "What's going on?"

"I don't know," she whispered. "Am I awake?"

"I hope so," Joe said softly, and kissed her cheek gently. "You're a lot better-looking when you're awake. Although you're awfully cute when you're asleep."

"Joe?"

"Mmm?"

"Do you ever have a hard time telling what's real and what's not?"

"Only when I'm with you," Joe replied, his mouth against her neck, "and that's just because you're the only fantasy I'll ever need."

Allison groaned, and buried her head in her pillow.

* * *

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	7. Guilty Too

Chapter Seven: Guilty Too

Lee Scanlon was sitting in one of the empty chairs in Devalos' office when Allison arrived. He looked like he hadn't slept, and appeared to be taking a nap against the office-standard beige wall. His mouth drooped open, and a bright orange sucker was just visible over the rise of his white teeth.

Allison stopped three feet in front of him and watched the detective sleep for a moment or two, remembering last night's dream. It had felt so incredibly real, the flagstones beneath her bare feet, the night's cool darkness winding about her, Scanlon's lips plastered against hers, the rising heat she felt in both of their bodies. A flush spread across her cheeks, and she was about to turn away from Scanlon when he sat straight up in the chair. The sucker clacked against his teeth and he grabbed it groggily. "Allison," he said, and wiped his hand across his face. Was it her imagination, or did he look guilty too?

"Any news on Daniel Rakowsky?" Allison asked.

Scanlon shook his head as he tossed the sucker into a nearby wastebasket. "None. And we didn't recover any viable evidence from the apartment where they took Abigail, either."

"Nothing at all?"

Scanlon appeared to reconsider. "We found two things," he said. "I don't know if they're significant or not."

He reached into his blazer pocket and drew out two plastic evidence bags, which he handed to Allison. "See what you can make of these," he suggested.

Allison accepted the bags from the detective. In one was a fish-shaped magnet, painted bright green and blue; in the other was a single blood-red rose.

"Look at the back of the magnet," Scanlon said, and reached to turn over the bag. His hand brushed Allison's, and a trace of heat flowed through their hands. Allison felt the heat rise up through her face; if she had been younger, she might have giggled. At best, she settled for looking intently at whatever it was Scanlon wanted to show her – a small golden crown, painted on the back of the fish.

"We found her at the Kingfisher Apartments," Allison said as soon as she had made sense of the clue.

"So the kidnapper's telling us what we already knew?" Scanlon asked.

"Maybe he wanted to tell us something else," Allison said. "Did Abigail recognize the magnet?"

"She said it didn't sound familiar," Scanlon replied.

"I'll show it to Rikki; maybe she's seen it before."

"And the rose?" Scanlon asked.

Allison pulled open the top of the bag and stuck her nose deep into it. The rose smelled fresh. "I don't know," she said.

Scanlon shook his head. "We're stumped. We don't have anything else to go on. Abigail Rakowsky didn't recognize the voice of the man who took her, and it goes without saying that she didn't see the car he drove, or anything else we could use to track the guy down, except that he was wearing a watch, and that could be any guy in Phoenix."

"What about the letter?"

"What letter?"

"Yesterday Devalos said the kidnapper sent a letter to the police."

"Oh, yeah, nothing ever came of that," Scanlon said. "No return address, no canceled stamp. The font wasn't special enough to be traceable, neither was the paper. There were no fingerprints on the letter itself, and the two salvageable fingerprints on the envelope got traced back to a man who died in September."

"What did it say?" Allison asked.

"I don't remember," Scanlon said. "I can get a copy for you, though."

"That would be great."

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	8. Barrettes, Ribbons, and Headbands

Chapter Eight: Barrettes, Ribbons, and Headbands

AN: I am particularly proud of this chapter because it contains no dialogue whatsoever.

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Allison left Scanlon, who was still waiting for Devalos, and drove across town to the Rakowsky house. It was a three-story rambling Victorian monstrosity painted various shades of cobalt blue, and it sat on a large-ish parcel of land that backed up to a wooded area. There was a detached garage, painted in the same shades of blue as the house. The wrap-around porch had a metal ramp attached to one side of the stairs, and was empty except for two large potted evergreen topiaries, both cut in a spiral.

Allison paused for a moment on the porch and knocked twice on the door. She waited another moment, but no one came to the door. From her pocket she retrieved the key that Rikki had given her and the list they had compiled that morning. The key fit seamlessly in the lock and the doorknob turned silently.

Inside the Rakowsky house, all was still. The TV was off; the computer on the table next to it was dark as well. A bookcase next to the media equipment held several Tom Clancy, Stephen King, and Dean Koontz novels, all of J.R.R. Tolkien's works, Vanna White's biography, and two shelves of DVDs. There was a basket of neatly folded laundry on the glass coffee table, along with two "People" magazines, one "Journal of Criminal Law and Prosecution," an open hard-bound book, and a bowl of peanut M & M's with all of the yellow ones picked out. A blue and green afghan was folded and set on the dark navy couch. There were no toys on the floor, or pictures on the wall, or any other signs that suggested a happy family of five inhabited the house regularly.

Allison walked through the living room and was about to turn into the dining room when she noticed a gap in the shelf of DVDs. All of the other discs were arranged alphabetically, so the missing DVD would have been something between "Lady in the Water" and "The Matrix." Allison looked around, but she didn't find the missing DVD on the TV cabinet or anywhere else in the living room. Everything was so tidy and well-arranged that she was fairly certain that there _was_ a missing disc.

The shades were drawn on the two windows in the dining room, leaving it dark and stuffy. The room was dominated by the big oval table in the center, surrounded by blue-cushioned chairs. In the center of the table was a cut-glass vase full of fresh purple and white lilacs. The rest of the room was taken up by two gigantic china cabinets. One held a set of white dishes with delicate hand-painted flowers and a gold rim; the other displayed blue-and-white Chinese dishes with a dragon theme. The drawers in both of the hutches were filled with snowy white napkins. The cabinets below the drawers were locked.

Allison couldn't find a key for the cabinets, so she stood and went through the dining room and into the kitchen. The kitchen, of all the rooms she had been in, looked the most inhabited. There were two smeary finger-painted pictures on the refrigerator, held in place with two heart-shaped magnets. A chore chart written in print and Braille was taped to the cabinet next to the refrigerator. There was a pile of unopened mail on the tile-topped kitchen table and a pair of muddy sneakers underneath it. One of the cabinets hung open, exposing two boxes of Cheerios and a box of Total raisin bran. There were brightly-colored plastic bowls and plates in the sink.

The kitchen held no more surprises for Allison. She opened each of the drawers, looking for the key or keys that would fit into the hutch cabinets, but wasn't able to find what she sought. For some reason she felt almost positive that there was something important in the cabinets, and she wanted to make sure before she left.

Off the kitchen, there was a half-bath and a small alcove that was being used as a mudroom. A hand carved wooden bench sat along the right wall, there was a dirt-catching rug on the floor, and several pairs of boots and shoes were lined up under the bench. A coat rack above the bench was draped with several sweaters, windbreakers, and fleece pullovers, and a small shelf above that held three or four well-worn baseball caps. There was also a wheelchair similar to Megan's in the alcove; Allison figured it was a spare. A door at the far side of the alcove opened out into the dark and empty garage, which she decided to check at the very end, if she had any time.

A short hallway led down to two other rooms, both with closed doors. Allison chose the first door and opened it gently. It was a bedroom, probably Christopher's. A twin bed was neatly made up with a plaid spread and a single white-cased pillow; a shelf above the bed displayed two trophies, a baseball in a clear plastic holder, and a green velvet jewelry box. Allison opened the box and was surprised to discover a heavy silver pocket watch with the name "Daniel" engraved on the back, along with the year 1975. A small bookcase held a bevy of science fiction novels and some hard-bound Reader's Digest Condensed Books. Behind white metal doors, the closet was filled with navy, black, and red polo shirts, black and khaki pants, two pairs of jeans, and a pair of leather loafers. The dresser held white and black boxer shorts, white, black, and gray socks, white short-sleeved undershirts, two sets of long underwear (one white, one gray), and a few T-shirts from various organizations, including the Phoenix Run for Rett. There was a small desk wedged into the corner; the drawers contained neatly-sharpened pencils, black and blue ink pens, crisp yellow legal pads, a set of artist's colored pencils, two gum erasers, and two small keys on a rusted key ring. Allison took the keys from the drawer and put them in the pocket of her blazer.

She shut the door of Christopher's neat room behind her and turned to look at the other closed door. Checking her watch, she discovered that it was only eleven o'clock. She certainly had time to search the rest of the house before gathering the things that the Rakowsky girls needed.

The second door opened into an office. Heavy bookcases lined the walls; all of them were full of books. Allison noticed _The Da Vinci Code_ and _The Handy Physics Answer Book_ sharing space. There were several shelves of criminal law journals and textbooks, and two shelves full of nothing but paperback romance novels, all of them dog-eared. One of the bookshelves had a locked frosted glass front. Allison took the keys from her pocket and tried both of them; neither of them was a match.

She worked her way through the rest of the office, but found nothing incriminating or helpful. It was obviously Daniel Rakowsky's private domain; case files relating to the Morales case were spread out on the desk's blotter, and other drawers were filled with tax returns, mortgage payments, receipts, birthday cards, and family pictures. Everything was neatly organized, dated, and labeled. Allison found no evidence of the former Mrs. Rakowsky, except for a picture of the family on a beach, where a redheaded woman had her arm slung around the man Allison assumed to be Daniel Rakowsky and a boy she assumed to be Christopher. The back was dated and notated in silver ink, like most of the other pictures she had found: "Destin, FL, Spring Break 2001." In the top desk drawer she found a single key on a piece of blue yarn, and it fit into the glass cabinet, which turned out to be empty.

There was nothing in Daniel Rakowsky's office, so she left it and went upstairs. There were six rooms opening off the central hallway. Three of the rooms were girls' bedrooms, and Allison had no trouble deciding which was which. She searched them quickly, looking for anything out of the ordinary. She went through the bathroom in the same manner, peeking in the medicine cabinet but discovering only aspirin, toothpaste, floss, and Sesame Street Band-Aids. There was one prescription bottle for Megan Rakowsky; not recognizing the name of the medication, Allison put it in her blazer pocket along with the keys. A cabinet held towels, extra toilet paper rolls, and bottles of Johnson's Baby Shampoo and Pantene conditioner. Three decorative baskets (one for each girl) hung above the toilet held hairbrushes, hair elastics, barrettes, ribbons, and headbands. A rack on the sink held a green toothbrush, a pink toothbrush, and a purple toothbrush, all corresponding to the girls' bedroom colors.

There were no signs of disorder; all of the girls' rooms had neatly-made beds, well-organized bookshelves, and efficiently-ordered dressers and closets. The bedroom was clean and neat as well. So was the large room at the far end of the hall, which obviously served as a playroom, study, lounge, therapy center, and TV room. Like all of the other rooms, it was fastidiously tidy, and there was nothing strange or out of the ordinary. There were no locked cabinets in the playroom, nor were there any keys in any of the drawers. A search through the master bedroom and bath revealed nothing else worth noting. There were, as in all of the other bedrooms, shelves of books, tidy clothes, a made bed. In the bathroom there were signs of only one inhabitant, a man who used Speed Stick deodorant, Crest toothpaste, and Bic disposable razors. Allison wondered how the Rakowsky family kept their house so clean and still managed to live in it; she wondered if she could get Joe and the girls to keep _their_ house so clean.

It was noon by the time she finished, and then went through the girls' rooms again, checking off items on the list Rikki had prepared and putting them into duffel bags. Five days' worth of clothes went into each bag, along with two books from Rikki and Abigail's rooms, and classical cassette tapes and a stuffed elephant from Megan's room. Allison retrieved their toothbrushes and hairbrushes, then zipped the duffels closed and set them by the front door.

In the kitchen she found a case of Pediasure and a red plastic toolbox, which Rikki had written near the bottom of the list. The last item was "feeding pump: should be near the kitchen table." Allison looked around and discovered what she assumed was the pump; it was attached to an IV stand and was nearly out of sight next to the shelves holding cookbooks and the microwave. She must have missed it on her first round. Next to the IV stand was an umbrella stand made of some dark wood; in it were several white canes. She chose one and put it next to Abigail's duffel.

When all of the things the girls had requested were safely in her car, Allison went back up the porch to the front door, intending to lock it. She reached into her pocket for the house key and instead brought out the two keys she had found in Chris's desk drawer. She went back into the house and into the still-darkened dining room, where she tried each key in the cabinets at the bottom of the hutch. The first hutch was immovable; neither key would turn.

The second key on the ring fit into the second hutch's cabinet, and it turned stiffly, as though it had not been opened in a long time. Allison kept her fingers tight on the key, trying not to snap it off in the lock. With a low, resounding _click_, the lock opened. Allison pulled on the cabinet's knob and swung the door open.

Whatever she had thought was in the cabinets – vases, the good silver, copies of The Kama Sutra – it wasn't there. Instead, the cabinet was empty except for a blue-and-green fish magnet, and a single blood-red rose. She could hardly believe it, and her hand shot out before she remembered both of the items were evidence. Then she stopped, suddenly cognizant of the fact that the magnet would have to be fingerprinted. With the keys she had taken from Christopher's desk drawer, she turned the magnet over.

On the back, a sticker shaped like a Chinese lantern marred the back of the painted fish, and there was a single word written in black marker: "Danny."

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	9. Loosen Your Tie

Chapter Nine: Loosen Your Tie

"Joe?"

Joe looked up. Peter Hathaway was in the hallway, clutching his presentation notes and his fat leather planner. "Mr. Alanson is here," Peter said.

"I'll be right there," Joe said. "I just need to transfer my notes to a disk."

He waved his disk at Hathaway, who smiled. "Well, okay then. We start in ten minutes."

Hathaway disappeared from Joe's doorway, and Joe hurried through the rest of his email, deleting ads for Viagra and 10 off textbooks. Closing the browser, he slipped the disk into the drive and quickly transferred his PowerPoint presentation to the disk's only folder: "Alanson."

Two minutes later he removed the disk from the drive and gathered the rest of his presentation meetings, which included two pie charts done on foam-core board and some brochures that he and Hathaway and Clark had prepared.

Hathaway was already speaking when Joe entered the conference room. He liked Hathaway, who was forty-ish, with white-blond hair and a disarming smile. Since they'd all been told to dress up for the Alanson presentation, Hathaway was wearing what he referred to as his "best suit" – a navy blue number with a dark navy pinstripe, plus a crisp white shirt and a solid cobalt blue tie.

Clark, full name Andrew Patterson Packard Clark, the other member of their presentation team, was in his early twenties. He was the company's newest "hot shot," and he liked to live up to his reputation. Sometimes he was worthy of his interactions with the older scientists, and sometimes he just looked like a fourth grader infiltrating a high school sex ed class. Dressed in a charcoal gray suit with a light lavender shirt underneath, his tie was a darker shade of purple with a small blue dot pattern. His boyish face looked flushed in the conference room lights, which shone on the very white part in his dark brown hair.

"… And here's our last team member, Joe DuBois," Hathaway said as Joe shut the conference room door behind him. "Joe, this is Davis Alanson."

"Pleased to meet you," Joe said, extending his hand towards their guest. Davis Alanson was in his late fifties and bore an air of old money and new disinterest. With him was a small, bespectacled woman with a timid expression on her face.

"This is my lawyer, Janine Bernhard, and my son will be joining us for the presentation," Davis Alanson informed them. "He should be along shortly."

Davis had barely finished his sentence when the conference room door was banged open and a gawky man in his twenties half-ran, half-fell into the room. Unlike his father, who was wearing a classically tailored black Italian suit with a light blue oxford shirt, or the lawyer, who was somber in a black pantsuit with a small gold brooch on the jacket, the younger Alanson sported a wrinkled white oxford, rumpled khakis, black-and-white tennis shoes, and a Bugs Bunny tie. "Uh! Sorry I'm late!" he exclaimed. He stuck out his pale, bony-wristed hand in Joe's general direction. "I'm Jacques Alanson. But you – uh! – can call me Jacky."

"Pleased to meet you," Joe repeated.

"If you're ready, we can begin," Hathaway suggested. Joe handed him the disk with their presentation, the three scientists gave one last tug to their best ties, and they were off and away. Clark spoke first, mostly because he had recently graduated from Yale Business School and had a better head for the logistics of a business proposition. Joe had to admit that Clark could have sold a sauna in Hell, and wondered if the young up-and-comer would have been happier selling something.

Twenty minutes of what Hathaway referred to as the "opening act" later, and it was time for Joe to give his part of the presentation. He put his pie charts on the flimsy metal easel in the corner and gave the Alansons and the lawyer some of the brochures. "Now, we're aware that you're attempting to start an aerospace program at the Polytechnic Magnet Institute in Seven Palms. The curriculum we're presenting here today is designed to be the best you will find at any comparable institute."

Hathaway took over, clicking to the next slide on the PowerPoint presentation, and they continued on for forty-five minutes. Davis Alanson took several pages of notes in his leather-bound notebook; his lawyer took at least twice as many notes. Jacques Alanson fidgeted in his chair and did not much else.

At the end of the presentation Joe felt as though he could have used a few good belts of something strong. Davis Alanson, who had been incredibly impressed with the presentation, clapped when Hathaway read through the last slide. The lawyer, whose name Joe had honestly forgotten, gave a small smile, which seemed to be the height of her emotional attachment. Jacques Alanson leapt out of his chair as soon as the presentation was over and shook hands, limply, with everyone in the room except for his father and the lawyer, who took the time to whisper to each other.

"That was excellent, just excellent, gentlemen," Davis Alanson declared when he was finished whispering to Janine. "That was the most well-done presentation I've seen."

"_Dude_," Jacques Alanson said. "Uh! Your PowerPoint was _sweet_."

Davis Alanson looked down at his gigantic silver watch. "Thank you for your time, gentlemen. We'll call you within the next few days to make our decision final."

"Our president, Mr. Clay, wanted to meet with you before you left," Hathaway said. "He asked if you would wait in his lounge."

Davis gave Hathaway a smile. "Excellent. I've looked forward to discussing our next golf game!" He smiled. "Jacques, Janine, I'll meet you in the lobby. Janine, will you phone Blumberg and let him know I'll be late for the next meeting?"

Picking up his wool overcoat, Davis Alanson swept out of the conference room, Hathaway and Clark in his wake. Jacky followed him, slinging his leather-sleeved varsity-style jacket over his shoulder. Only the lawyer, Janine, was left in the room with Joe, who had begun picking up the brochures and pie charts. She busied herself putting papers into her black leather briefcase. Then, as though realizing that she wasn't in the room alone, she looked up at Joe. "Your presentation was well done, Mr. DuBois."

"Thanks," Joe said.

"I suppose you could loosen your tie now," the lawyer suggested.

Joe gave her a smile. "Is it that obvious that we don't dress up that often?"

"You would probably be a bit more at home in a T-shirt and jeans, is that correct?"

"I do like dress down Fridays," Joe agreed.

"Mr. DuBois, I'm not officially authorized to tell you this," Janine said, "but Mr. Alanson would like to meet with you on Wednesday to discuss the future of the aerospace program at the Polytechnic Magnet Institute. Please be at the Alanson Complex at six-thirty on Wednesday evening."

Having finished putting her papers into the briefcase, she snapped it shut and gave Joe a smile of her own, exposing a mouth of perfect white teeth. As she stepped away from Joe, she said, "And please, wear something a little more comfortable."

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	10. The Hidden Meaning

Chapter Ten: The Hidden Meaning

"Mom's home!" Allison shouted into the house as she swung the front door open.

"Mrs. DuBois!" she heard Rikki cry, and then feet tapped on the floor towards her. Rikki swung around the corner. "Let me help you with all of that!"

Allison set the purple and green duffel bags on the floor. "There's only a few more things," she said. She held out the white cane. "I figured Abigail would want this right away."

"Abby!" Rikki called. "Mrs. DuBois brought you a seeing stick!"

Allison heard Abigail laugh from somewhere in the house, and then the blind girl appeared as well, using her hands to grope along the walls. Rikki put the cane in her sister's hand, and Allison watched as an entirely new person appeared. It was as though Abigail grew a few inches; she looked more confident by the second.

"I'll get the rest of the bags," Rikki said. "Abby, can you get Megan ready for eating?"

"Oh, the pump is in the back seat," Allison said.

"I'll handle it; don't worry," Rikki said with a cheerful smile. "Back in a minute."

"The girls are drawing," Abigail said as Rikki went down the front walk. "Bridgette said she wanted to write a sequel to _Danielle Goes to the Zoo_, so I was writing down what she told me, and then she said she wanted to illustrate it."

Rikki came back in, carrying the pink duffel bag and wheeling the IV stand.

"Let me grab Megan," Abigail said, and tapped back down the hallway.

"Rikki," Allison said, "I found something in the house I wanted to ask you about."

She reached into her left blazer pocket and removed the set of two keys and the pill bottle she had found in the upstairs bathroom. "Not this," she started to explain. "These I found at the house."

Rikki nodded, taking the pill bottle. "That's Lamictal, an anti-seizure drug. It's for Megan, but she hasn't taken it for awhile; her seizures have mostly stopped. And those keys are for the bigger dining room hutch. Chris keeps those, and Abby keeps the keys to the other one. Chris keeps his in his desk, but Abby puts hers in her backpack, usually."

"Okay," Allison said, and then removed the two Ziploc bags with the rose and the magnet in them. "I found these in the hutch."

"That's all that was in there?" Rikki asked, taking the two bags from Allison. "There are supposed to be vases, and picture frames, and wedding photos, and our birth certificates in there."

"Do you recognize this magnet?"

"No."

"You don't have a set of them?"

"No," Rikki said. "The only magnets we have are the heart-shaped ones we have on the fridge."

Allison turned the bag in the girl's hand so she could see the back of the magnet. "The magnet says 'Danny,'" she said. "Does anyone call your father 'Danny'?"

Rikki thought for a moment, holding the bag in her hand. "My mother used to," she said at last, "but she's been gone for years."

"Does the lantern mean anything to you?"

"There was a lantern in the dream," Rikki said slowly, "but it was a Coleman lantern, the kind that we take on camping trips." Then she looked up at Allison. "The cabinet was empty?"

"Except for the rose and the magnet."

Abigail came back into the living room, wheeling Megan in front of her. "She's ready to eat," Abby said to Rikki. "Eat being a relative term and all."

Rikki put the two Ziploc bags on the kitchen table. "Good," she said, and leaned down to brush Megan's hair out of her eyes.

"Someone named Detective Scanlon called," Abigail related as Rikki took out some cans of Pediasure. "He said he would stop by later."

"Thank you," Allison said. "I'm going to change my clothes, and then I'll cook some dinner."

She left the sisters talking quietly in the kitchen while Rikki hooked up Megan's feeding pump to the small plastic entrance on the little girl's stomach. In the hall, she stopped to throw the load of wash she'd done in the morning into the dryer. Then she stuck her head around the corner into Marie and Bridgette's room.

Bridgette was sprawled on the carpet with a large pad of newsprint under her. The paper was large enough for her to be completely on it, her striped-sock feet waving in the air as she drew a blond-haired girl and what appeared to be an orange fish. "Mommy!" she exclaimed as Allison appeared. "Mommy, I am writing _Danielle and the Secret Language_, and now I know an _actual_ secret language!"

"That sounds great, my love," Allison said, leaning down to give the girl a kiss on the forehead. Then she realized exactly what Bridgette had meant – scattered around the room were sheets of clean white paper covered in Braille. She picked up a sheet and ran her fingers over it, trying to decipher the hidden meaning in the obvious.

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	11. Fall Out of His Life

Chapter Eleven: Fall Out of His Life

"What if Daniel Rakowsky wasn't kidnapped?"

Manuel Devalos looked up. Moments before, he had been writing on a legal pad in front of him. Now he was confronted with Allison and Detective Scanlon, who rushed into his office at nearly the same time. "I'm sorry; I thought I just heard you suggest that Daniel Rakowsky wasn't kidnapped."

Allison looked over at Scanlon, who shrugged. "That's what I said," Allison repeated. "What if Daniel Rakowsky wasn't kidnapped?"

"What evidence do you have to support this crazy theory?" Devalos asked, looking over his half glasses. "And how is this evidence any better than all of the evidence we have to the contrary, showing that he _was_ kidnapped?"

"It doesn't feel like a kidnapping to me," Allison said.

"Did you see something?"

Allison flushed, remembering the dream about kissing Scanlon. Guiltily she looked over at the detective, who was watching Devalos. "No," she said at last. "It just doesn't feel right to me."

Devalos set down his pen. "Allison," he said, "Daniel Rakowsky disappeared from his car after picking up his daughter Abigail from goal-ball practice. His car was found, abandoned, at the Rutledge Docks, a place he had never visited and had no reason to visit. His credit cards haven't been touched, there have been no calls placed from his cell phone, and he hasn't contacted anyone, including his secretary, his boss, or his four children. And we have a note from a kidnapper."

"Which says _what?"_ Allison asked.

"It says that Abigail Rakowsky would not be harmed, and that a fee must be paid to secure Daniel Rakowsky's safe return." Devalos shook his head. "Allison, Daniel Rakowsky was _taken_. He was a responsible man. He wasn't just going to fall out of his life."

"Unless he had a secret life he didn't want anyone to know about," Allison argued back.

"We have found no proof of…"

"Just because you haven't found any proof of a second life doesn't mean that there _wasn't_ one."

"It wasn't a lead we followed," Scanlon admitted grudgingly.

"And how, pray tell, did you come to this wild accusation?" Devalos asked, looking up at both of them.

"Something didn't seem right at the house," Allison said. It was really all of the evidence she had to go on, minus the second fish magnet and the second rose. The house had been too neat, too clean, too perfect.

She took the bags from her purse and set them on the table. "I found these at the house today," she said.

Devalos slid his glasses back onto his nose and looked at the two bags. "Another magnet and another rose. What does this prove?"

"The magnet says 'Danny,'" Allison said. "I asked Rikki, and she said that the only person who ever called her father Danny was her mother."

"... who lives in Baltimore," Devalos said.

"Does she really? Did anyone bother to track her down?"

Devalos looked at Scanlon, who did a half-shrug. "I guess we'll follow up on it," Scanlon said eventually.

"Until then, we treat Daniel Rakowsky's case as a kidnapping," Devalos said firmly, and closed his file folder, signifying that the meeting, such as it had been, was over.

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